


The Duchess and Lucien Predicament

by sinunamor



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Casual read, Family Drama, M/M, old men being gross and adorable together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinunamor/pseuds/sinunamor
Summary: Merging households is hard when one kid is allergic and the other refuses to give up his dog.





	The Duchess and Lucien Predicament

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerdy-flower (baconnegg)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baconnegg/gifts).



> for @nerdy-flower who waited a lot more than necessary for this first part.
> 
> also to celebrate vegamarch being canon...

If you were to ask Ernest: how did it all begin? He would mention his father’s missing left shoe.

“Ernest, not funny,” Hugo’s deep voice echoed through their rather narrow hallway. His usual straight, proud gait caught in a limp.

It was those brown, pleather Oxford types, Ernest would say, not actual Oxfords but those copies one can find for a good 25 dollars at those super department stores. The kind where you can grab chips in one aisle and a good pair of cheap earbuds in the other.

“Ernesto Vega, this is childish even by your own standards,” Hugo continued, stopping in front of a closed door. Its white surface brightly decorated with skate/surf shop stickers and a black and white mini-print homage to Biggie Smalls. In the middle, a small dirtied whiteboard, whose original use failed and was now a temporary space to practice graffiti. Hugo absentmindedly ran his finger through a particularly complex one, erasing “yung” but stopping at…”stanback”?

“Ernest,” Hugo continued, rapping on the door. “This is ridiculous, I need to go.”

If there was anything stereotypically gay about his father, Ernest would comment, it was his obsession with shoes.

Hugo sighed heavily, looking up at the ceiling and supplicating to whoever is up there (may his father rest in the eternal glory he believed in) before opening the door and finding Ernest stomach down on his bed being idle with his phone. The boy’s earbuds weren’t even on!

“Dad!” Ernest frowned, plopping his phone to the side. “Why do you always do that? I told you already, what if I was dressing?”

Conveniently ignoring that detail, Hugo stepped into the room, causing his son to sigh in defeat and go back to whatever game he was on.

“Ernest. My light-brown pleather, mock-Oxford shoe, the one with the dark brown laces, where is it?” Hugo asked.

Ernest furrowed his brow even tighter, tapping on his phone with fervor. “How am I supposed to know? I don’t keep track of your shoes.”

  
_Assume and exhibit good-will Hugo_ , _assume and exhibit good-will_. Ernest might have not seen them at all. Hugo tried again.

“I thought you might know where it is,” he started carefully. “Since I have worn them recently and they are usually left in the shoe rack near the front door.”

Ernest tsked loudly. “I d’know where they are,” he said, eyes never prying off the screen. “For all I know, the Duchess could’ve taken it.”

Hugo’s strong brow twitched.

“I told you she could be inside the house so long as you keep her away from my things Ernest! C’mon!” Hugo exclaimed, his hands dancing and showing just outraged he was. His hands went down and lightly slapped the sides of his thighs.

At least it got Ernest’s full attention. The boy doesn’t like to be scolded, so why does he only respond when his tone gets harsher?

“She could’ve taken it while I was not looking!” Ernest looked up. “I swear, I don’t know where your dumb shoes are.”

Hugo shook his head. The pressure of being ready on time coupled with loss of one of his favorite pairs of shoes made the patience reserved for his son sink lower. “Well, now you’re gonna help me find it.”

“What? No!” Ernest shook his head. “I’m not going on a freak search for a shoe!”

“Ernest,” Hugo began. “Damien is going to be here any time now—”

“Then wear another pair!” Ernest rebutted. “You’re acting like you don’t have a bajillion pairs in your closet already.”

“That’s not the point! The point is, the Duchess is your responsibility and you promised to make sure she didn’t chew on our stuff. Now I do not know if she actually took it or if you decided to somehow get back at me for—” The tension between father and son grew.

Then the doorbell rang, their blessed interruption, and at the door, an angel.

“Good evening my love. Looking handsome as always,” Damien smirked, his eyes trailing down to better appreciate the view. It was a nice thought, to know that Hugo had dressed up rather dapper for him. He hoped his more modern approach to dressing in suits (Edwardian in nature yes, but he did look good in it) could only emphasize how handsome his boyfriend looked.

Hugo blushed under his gaze as Damien’s sly spread of lips grew wider. “Although,” Damien tsked softly. “I hope you do not plan on leaving the house without this.”

From out his evening cape he never failed to bring on occasions like this, Damien presented the missing light brown pleather mock-Oxford shoe, the one with the dark brown laces.

Oh.

Ernest, who had passed by the entrance, (to get some snacks dammit, it’s not like he wanted to see the vampire) looked at the shoe as if it done him great wrong.

  
“Ohmygod! See? I told you I didn’t have that stupid shoe!”

A fatherly sort of embarrassment went through Hugo. It was the worst kind, knowing you had messed up and blamed your own child for something he did not do.

“Oh dear, was there a misunderstanding?” Damien muttered. “I knew I should have notified you earlier about this. I had found it underneath my bed.”

Hugo’s blush deepened. “Tha-that’s right,” he chuckled weakly. “I had ah—” He pushed up his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “I had forgotten that…that was in your house.”

Ernest had squeezed in to take his rightful place at the front door, scrunching up his nose and looking at Hugo and Damien as they talked.

“How did you even, _even_ , forget that you had one shoe at Damien’s?” Ernest scowled.

“This happened in the weekend prior, I believe,” Damien muttered, furrowing his brow in thought. “Although that was when I also returned your dress shirt and your jacket.” He let out an amused chuckle. “My love, did you really go back home wearing one shoe?”

Hugo sighed tiredly. “I came home with no shoes, I just ah,” he began, taking off his glasses and giving them a quick shine with the ends of his shirt. “Rolled up everything and I guess, brought home nothing.” Like a teen trying to return home unnoticed at the crack of dawn.

“Well that settles it,” Damien said.

“You guys been having sleepovers?” Ernest continued after he processed everything. “Since when?!”

Hugo opened his mouth to answer but hesitated and shook his head. “Amor I’m sorry, please come in,” he tried to smile sweetly in the presence of an incredulous son. “I need to put this on.”

“Thank you,” Damien smiled, leaning in for a firm chaste kiss. He was always rather proud of his lofty height but appreciated the slight lean on his toes to catch Hugo’s lips by surprise. Of course, to which Hugo always returned gladly.

“Does Lucien know?!” Ernest continued. “How come he never told?!”

Hugo pulled away, annoyance surging up again. “Lucien doesn’t spend hours in bed on his phone purposefully ignoring his father when he tells him he is going out. That’s how he knew,” he rebutted. Damien patted Hugo’s cheek gently before another bickering session started. “Your shoe?” he whispered. With his experience, the Vega boys would soon sleep it off and restart with breakfast the next morning.

“R-right,” Hugo muttered, taking his left shoe and himself to the couch with a tired plop.

Ernest tsked loudly, making his way towards the room. “Stupid Lucien,” he muttered under his breath.

“Ernesto,” Hugo called in full latino paternal authority, making Ernest pause. Hugo gestured toward Damien with a slight cock of his head. “Ya saludastes?”

Ernest’s shoulders tensed slightly as he turned around slowly. “Hey Damien,” he forced a smirk. Perhaps what irked the boy the most was the fact that he wanted to hate his father’s boyfriend, but the vampire had virtually done nothing to garner any of that hate.

“Good evening Ernest,” Damien answered, his lips spreading in a fond smile. “School was alright, I hope.”

Ernest gave him an ‘OK’ sign and a dopey “I don’t care” smile and went off to the sanctuary of his room.

Feeling strangely disappointed, Damien settled himself next to Hugo. From the length and the heaviness of their sighs they both knew didn’t need to say more.

“How was work?” Hugo asked, tying his shoe.

“Same old things, well, slightly petty old things, but still the same,” Damien shrugged, mindlessly observing how those strong fingers can loop knots with such thin laces. “While my team and I are doing routine security check-ups, we wait for the next big office drama to happen. It gets that awfully boring.”

“I’d rather that than angsty teenagers smartassing me any day,” Hugo chuckled, finishing and shuffling closer to Damien and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Damien hummed blissfully and rested his head on that strong broad chest of his.

“We have our fair share at home,” he muttered.

“Yea,” Hugo said, rubbing his hand on Damien’s arm up and down. “But…they’ll come around. We all did. They’re…they’re good kids.”

“I know,” Damien answered, half-lulled by the warmth that forever radiated and bled through his clothes. He blinked and sat up straighter. They weren’t here to cuddle and spend another night indoors, as wonderful as that sounded. They had a reservation in a more upscale restaurant downtown.

“We should start leaving now if we want to avoid traffic,” Damien said. Hugo smiled and gently flicked off a stray lash off his cheek. He was glad Damien chose not to wear contacts that night. His dark eyes emphasized by his make-up were all the more deep and mesmerizing to him.

“Ahh, but now I don’t want to go,” Hugo playfully whined. “Too comfortable here.”

Damien’s chest rumbled in a chuckle. “That would be for the coming weekend my love, but we must hurry now, lest we’ll lose our seats.”

“Not without a kiss,” Hugo smirked, pulling him down.

“Oh alright, if you insist,” Damien rolled his eyes and placed his hands on either side of Hugo’s jaw and met his lips with his own. As if he would deny him. He hummed when he felt those strong fingers run through his hair.

Ernest crept through the narrow hallway, peeking out into the living room to see if they had left. A part of him reminded that his father never left home without saying goodbye, but if he’s too into the vampire right now, Ernest deemed himself easily forgotten. To his slight annoyance and some hidden inner relief, his father was still there on the couch resting his forehead against Damien’s. They were smiling, their shoulders shaking as they laughed over some nerdy shit the other probably said.

Ernest crossed his arms and leaned slightly against the wall, half hidden by the shadows of the warm Ikea lighting. His father looked…happy. He never seen the old man this happy and relaxed since...well damn, since when did Hugo smile this wide when he was married to his dad.

And the feeling sucked, it did. Realizing then that the two people you thought were so in love did not get along after all. Cos you were a kid and your fathers placed you above everything else, even their own happiness.

The happy wrinkles around Hugo’s eyes appeared, Damien slid off his glasses to kiss them. They were being old and sweet and gross, and damn was that all they did in their sleepovers? Nevermind, Ernest did not even want to go there. He speedwalked back into the room to escape such thoughts on his phone.

* * *

 

“Mm, we have…we have to go,” Damien muttered, tilting his head to give Hugo some room. He furrowed his brow slightly. “And your son in his room, you do realize that.”

They were both flushed from an impromptu make-out session. Hugo pulled away and gave him a smirk. “Something for the road,” he replied.

“A road we must get to now,” Damien muttered, returning the smirk. He stood up from the couch and offered his hands. Hugo took them and lifted himself up with a grunt. “Alright, alright,” he relented, smoothing down his suit jacket and pants. “Lemme get my phone and kiss Ernest goodnight.”

Damien looked at him with a raised brow. “Ernest still lets you tuck him in?”

“ _Ch!_ No,” Hugo half-scoffed, though his expression began to soften. “I wish though. It’s the little things I miss, helping him brush his teeth, nighttime stories, turning on night lights—”

“Don’t!” Damien interrupted with a furrowed brow. He did not want to think of nighttimes spent with a young Lucien. “Sentimental old man, you will get me started as well. Please do not think about that, not now.”

Hugo smiled softly, making his way towards his son’s room, stopping at that old familiar white door covered in skate/surf stickers and the whiteboard that now has ‘Knock or I won’t listen’ scrawled on it. Hugo rolled his eyes and gently rapped on the door. “Ernest? Ernest we’re leaving, please lock the door,” Hugo called out. A moment later, Ernest opened the door a crack.

“Barely?” he asked.

“Yes,” Hugo said, wishing he could open the door wider. “Can you please lock the door behind us?”

“Yeah, yeah sure,” he grumbled, trudging out of his room where he was met with the vampire’s nice guy smile.

“Now remember,” Hugo began. “Do not open the door for no one, and I mean no one, so no ordering pizza—"

Ernest tsked amusedly. “What if its Lucien?”

Damien shook his head. “Lucien is out with his friends and he knows very well what do in case of an emergency. We have our own plan,” he explained. “Or else I would have invited you over, you two would have spent a night at my place.”

Ernest shrugged lightly and looked at Hugo with a smirk. “What if its Mat?” he dared. “Or Pops?”

“Ernest, please,” Hugo said. “You know what I meant by no one.”

“Ch! Fine,” Ernest muttered.

“Mind the Duchess, keep her with you at all times,” Hugo continued. “And don’t forget to put the dishes in the dishwasher, oh and leave the living room light on before you go to bed. We won’t be long but just in case—”

“Yea, yea dad I get it!” Ernest frowned. “I got this! I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“I know,” Hugo answered, sounding strangely defeated. “Just…be safe.”

“You guys are gonna be late,” Ernest crossed his arms.

“Right,” Hugo said, hesitating an approach forward to Ernest. “Good night mijo.”

“G’night and good bye,” Ernest said, holding the door.

“Good night Ernest,” Damien said. “Send my love to the Duchess.”

“Yeah,” Ernest muttered, glancing down and fidgeting the doorknob. He took a good look at their shoes. Such old-timey shoes they both had on.

“Call me if anything,” Hugo said as he went out the door, giving him a quick ruffle of his hair before he was shrugged off.

“Or me,” Damien nodded. “Have fun without us.”

Ernest snorted softly, seeing them out as they walked towards Damien’s car. Piece o’ shit Honda Civic; one would think Damien would drive a hearse.

He saw how Damien opened the shotgun door for his dad and how his dad practically swooned. Damien must’ve said some nerd-ass joke because they were both smiling and laughing like nothing else mattered. Damien even closed the door for him before he took his place in the driver’s seat.

When did Pops ever open the door for Dad? Hell, when did they ever do this kinda crap for each other?

Ernest thought back to the brown pleather mock-Oxford shoe. If dad had left his shoe at Pops’ place, his Pops probably won’t care. He’ll make some comment on how Dad won’t miss the damn thing, that he had bajillions in his closet or that he will give Ernest some money so he could buy him another pair for his birthday.

Ernest caught his dad waving at him through the window, with that carefree smirk on his face. He found himself softly waving back before his father began gesturing for him to go back inside.

  
Ernest closed the door and locked it, turning on the living room lights before jogging towards the garage door. He found the Duchess panting and waiting loyally for him by the step, slobbered chew toys scattered around her. Ernest smiled wide, patting his thighs to beckon her in. She sat up and barked, the mastiff joining her beloved master in the house and rearing on her hind legs to rest her big front paws on his shoulders. Didn’t matter to him that she was nearly his height, that loving, excitable dog. Ernest chuckled, giving her well-deserved kisses and scritches. They’d spend the rest of the night together in his room, playing tug of war with his old shirts, eating cheeseballs and pizza rolls while streaming some anime. The skirmish between him and his father earlier forgiven, but never truly forgotten.

Because if you’d ask Ernest how his dad and step-dad found each other, he will tell you his dad was missing his left brown pleather mock-Oxford shoe, and that Damien was the one who found and returned his missing half.

* * *

 

But it wasn’t always easy. Nothing ever was. Ernest learned that the hard way.

There was no such thing as “happily ever after”, because there is the question of “now what?”. Life wasn’t meant to be wrapped up in a nice big bow. It was unpredictable, cruel, and unfair.

Unfair like packing up boxes and boxes of crap, and for what? So they can carry them one house over and unpack again?

Someone shoot his left hand he did not want to do this anymore.

“I’m going to start carrying the first few boxes over,” Hugo said, grunting as he lifted a box of books they had just finished packing. He had a strap-on back support over his old wrestling tee. It still didn’t stop Ernest from wondering when the old man was going to hurt himself. “You finished your room yet?”

Ernest furrowed his brow as he piled a few more books into yet another box. “I was gonna,” he muttered. “Until you called me here to help you."

  
“Remember to separate the stuff you are going to take to your father’s apartment in another box,” Hugo said, hoisting the box over his shoulders and walking out the front door.

Ernest stopped and stretched, scrutinizing the place. He never seen the house this empty, it almost seemed alien to him to see it this decluttered. The shelves near bare. Most of the furniture now either sold, stored or donated. A lone chew toy lay next to some year-old mystery stain.

  
He looked out the window to where there was a clear view of Damien’s place. His father swiftly entered the front door.

So yeah, they got married. Something about it being very beneficial to all of them at the moment like medical insurance, taxes, mortgages and 4-member family discounts.

Well, that and because they were in love.

It came to no surprise to Ernest, neither the entirety of the cul de sac for that matter, that the town’s two biggest nerds have found kindred hearts in one another.

Now they are spending their honeymoon retrofitting the vampire mansion for two more people.

It has been a slow process; a lot of the time and energy was spent on deciding what stays and what goes. Ernest supposed it would have been a much easier move if his father decided to throw more than half of his junk away. Damien should have done so too for that matter. That pinned bug collection belongs buried underground miles away from here.

But their house was officially on escrow, and Ernest was spending the official first night in his step-dad’s vampire mansion.

Speaking of which…he would be sharing a room with his new emo vampire of a step-brother, Lucien.

Damien promised him the guest bedroom but said bedroom was currently filled with the creepy cases of pinned bugs and fossilized skulls. Ernest felt chills just thinking about it. Damien said he needed time to figure where to store the rest of his collection, meanwhile he would bunk with Lucien.

Robert, the now-closer neighbor, had volunteered to help move around furniture and assembled his bed with his dad. Asshole patted the mattress over the frame after dad left and promised it was nice and loose, so he’d better think twice if he wanted to move around to get warm and comfy. What was the deal with the guy? Unfortunately, he was Damien’s mutual through his best friend Mary, so he supposed he’s gonna see him more often too.

Honestly the only normal one here was Lucien. He had to give it to the guy, taking the move like a champ. If he were in his place, Ernest was sure he would be in a pissy mood 24/7.

The only direct jab at him was his scoff after his furniture was settled in. “You’re ruining my aesthetic,” Lucien grumbled.

Ernest did not exactly mind the guy at all, most days, but because of his sneezy fits around dogs, it only meant now that the Duchess wouldn’t be able to sleep with him but rather outside. Which sucked because New England nights weren’t the most forgiving at any time of year. He would need to ask Hugo about buying a heat lamp for her.

Perhaps that is why Damien had gifted him a plush mastiff with a red bow the night before the wedding. A “pre-welcome gift” he said. Ernest hated that thing, it was too stupidly adorable to exist. It rests on top of his dresser which was now in his—his and Lucien’s—bedroom. “The Duke” will have to do while the Duchess Cordelia was getting pampered in a doggy hotel and spa Hugo put her in to distract her for a week while everyone was getting settled in.

He missed her.

Now with last of minor junk moved or thrown out, it was time…it was time to go home.

And the first taste of home was witnessing the front door creak open on its own, letting a draft out or something. Hugo smiled at him and led him inside with a quick gesture of his chin. They stepped in as Damien descended the staircase with his arms stretched wide and dressed in civvies and glasses, a look Ernest will hardly get used to seeing the vampire in.

Wait, wasn’t that his dad’s shirt?

“Welcome home beloved husband and step-son,” Damien smiled, stopping mid-staircase.

“Is that a greeting I will receive every day for the rest of my life?” Hugo grinned up at him.

“So long as you don’t arrive at the door intoxicated,” Damien smirked. “Then yes, mi corazón, beloved husband is what you will be to me, always.”

Oh great, he should have seen that coming, Damien is going to chime into their special dad and son conversations. Ernest stuck his tongue out a little, stuffing his fists in his hoodie pocket.

“Ernest dear, do come in, the door won’t close unless a warm body safely passes through,” Damien called.

Ernest rose a brow and looked back at the front door that was still hung open. He took a few steps forward and to his great surprise, and great scare, the door slowly shut close on its own. He let out an odd yelp and immediately ran to his father’s side, clinging onto his arm.

Damien and Hugo chuckled heartily. Ernest felt that familiar, strong, reassuring rub on his shoulder, pressing him safely against his dad’s side. Felt kinda nice. He forgot to get annoyed by them taking mirth out of his scare.

“This place is haunted!” Ernest exclaimed.

“My sincerest apologies,” Damien chuckled out the last of his amusement, descending the staircase fully. “The door is incredibly old, bought it off an antique seller. Made of solid wood as you see. Humidity, air temperature and the like affect the wood and hinges one way or the other and is extremely sensitive to drafts. I should keep the habit of locking it. It was mere coincidence that it closed at the timing that it did.”

That was less reassuring, his argument fell apart at the mention of an “antique seller”. Everyone knows not to trust those guys, didn’t he watch any horror film?

“Gave me a scare the first time I came in,” Hugo chuckled, stretching his arm to pull in Damien for a hug.

“Ah, yes,” Damien smiled, accepting the hug without hesitation, cupping his jaw and pressing a kiss on his cheek. The greyish titanium wedding band on his ring finger glinted softly from the movements. “Ernest’s reaction was very calm in comparison.”

Hugo and Damien laughed softly from the memory when Ernest felt Hugo squeeze a little more. Oh no, no way, he knows what his dad is doing. Ernest pulled away, asserting himself. He does not do family hugs.

He ignored the sad-sounding sighs and instead decided to do what he did best, go to his room. Only it wasn’t just his room anymore. It was Lucien’s as well. God, did he take that luxury for granted.

“Where are you going?” Hugo questioned.

“Exploring,” Ernest huffed.

“Avoid the guest bedroom,” Damien recommended. “The pinned collection is still being stored there.”

Ernest frowned, chills doing down his arms. “I’ll just go to my room then,” he muttered.

“Knock,” Hugo frowned. “Lucien just might be in.”

Who was he to tell him to knock?!

“Ah and dinner will be ready at 6 o’clock. Don’t worry about anything else, I only expect promptness,” Damien gave a firm nod. Ah, so there was a serious side to him. Ernest inwardly smirked, he need to find the right angle to poke at that. “It will be our first family dinner together and I do have something planned special for this occasion,” the vampire finished.

Ernest gave him a small weak salute before jogging up the stairs.

“That went rather…well,” Hugo muttered once he knew the boy was out of hearing range.

“As good as it can get,” Damien tsked softly. “Your boy has a sweetness about him, but for some odd reason he puts on these acts of bravado, claiming he doesn’t care.”

“That’s a first,” Hugo scoffed.

“First on what?”

“Describing Ernest as sweet.”

* * *

 

Ernest rapped on the door gently, huffing and trying harder when he wasn’t opened right away. It was his room too dammit! But…he did feel a little intrusive.

Lucien finally opened the door and what a strange sight he was without his makeup. These vampires look so odd when they are normal.

“Ah so the beta dog hath arrived,” the older teen said, leaning against the frame. “To boldly mark his territory in the alpha’s den.”

“Just let me in yea?” Ernest grumbled. “I got enough of a show from your dad.”

Lucien let out an airy scoff and left the door open as he turned around to return to whatever he was doing on his laptop. Ernest shut the door behind him and sought refuge in the familiar sight of his bed in the corner. It was different however, to be highly aware of someone being there in the same room. Was this having a sibling truly feels like? He cautiously poked his bed.

“I dumped your shit in the closet by the way,” Lucien muttered, rocking back in his ergonomic chair, making Ernest turn around. “That’s first rule, don’t just drop your clothes or leave your shoes wherever like some barbarian. There’s a hamper in the bathroom for the dirties.” Lucien sniffed casually and continued to type away on his laptop.

“Okay?” Ernest muttered, carefully sitting down on the bed. “Anything else I need to know your highness?”

The sound of typing chiclet keyboard was his only response for a while before Lucien sniffed again and pressed the enter button rather loudly. “You keep to your side, I keep to mine. Things get a lot easier if you just follow the goddamn rules.”

“Ch! Alright then,” Ernest rose a brow. “Cos you follow the rules all the damn time.”

Lucien stopped typing, his tongue passing under his upper lip and his piercings. “Which brings me to the last, most important rule,” he turned around, dark eyes glaring at him. “Don’t you ever, _ever_ , fuck with my dad.”

Ernest’s expression softened, though it immediately contorted with confusion.

“Don’t act all innocent with me,” Lucien continued. “The whole damn neighborhood knows how you are, the sparklers in Joseph’s pants, that back alley fight with Robert which you bitched out on, how you treat your own dad.”

Ernest didn’t know how to respond, but knew it was best to let Lucien finish.

“I for one could care less, but you try something with my dad, even just fucking smart-mouthing him, I swear, it’s not gonna end well for you got it?” Lucien sneered.

Ernest nodded.

“Got it?!”

“Yes! Geez, yea I got it,” Ernest responded.

Lucien returned to his laptop, returning to his work. “Good, then we’ll become the best of friends,” he said, though there was a hint of sugary fakeness in his words. He leaned back on his chair and swiveled around to face Ernest again. “Watchu think baby bro, should we have a secret knock pattern for our doors?”

* * *

They easily fell into a soft silence, the kind in which a warmth settled in their chests and reassured them of their closeness and love. The dull rhythmic tapping of metal on wood, the soft simmering of black beans in an open pressure cooker, the churn of water in a bowl full of floating tomatoes and radishes. The air smelled pleasant; stolen glances and contented sighs. There was no better way to spend a honeymoon, rich in intimacy in the kitchen like this.

When he said special, he meant it. Damien was learning how to cook Ernest’s favorite dish. Hugo told him a story on how this particular dish was not even from the region his family was from but found a way into Ernest’s young impressionable tummy when a neighbor friend, from when they lived in San Diego, fed him black beans. Ernest couldn’t have enough of them the days after.

It was a stupidly simple dish, but to Ernest it was an example of culinary distinction, what separates a tasty bowl of beans from an ordinary bowl of beans, or so Hugo claims. It was normally cooked with pork but for Damien’s and Lucien’s sake a separate pot was made so that the other could contain bits of it.

“You really don’t have to,” Hugo muttered after he was put in charge in preparing the meat.

“I must, if Ernest enjoys beans with pork, then he shall have them with pork,” Damien muttered, slicing the ends of the tomatoes off.

Hugo observed Damien’s show of determination by completing the meat dish. His brow softened. “It’s because of the predicament, huh?”

Damien smiled weakly. “I would like to indulge myself in a false sense of family unity before he—” Damien mulled the thought around a little. “Before he forever sees me as the wicked step-father who wishes nothing but misery on him.”

“Ahhh mijo,” Hugo shook his head fondly. Damien wondered if the man will ever run out of endearments for him.

He pretended to remain slightly upset even as Hugo’s arms went about his waist and his chin rested on his shoulder, because he is most certainly NOT going to fall for that every time. “I think you’re being a little over dramatic, even for you. Now, we’ll explain what needs to be done, together. If he so sees us as the enemies, let him. The best we can do is show him that we still love and care for him no matter what.”

Damien blushed, because he was most certainly NOT falling so easily to his husband’s words and embrace. He puffed his cheeks. “I suppose,” he muttered stubbornly as he could practically feel Hugo grin from how close his lips were.

“And you know, I’ll do the same for Lucien,” Hugo continued, nuzzling behind his ear. “We’re in this together now. We have wedding bands to prove it.” And almost on cue, they both looked down to where their hands were. Hugo’s interlaced snug over Damien’s stomach, showing off both gleaming engagement ring and wedding band. Damien rubbed his left hand tenderly over both, turning to place a kiss on Hugo’s head. Hugo met him on his lips.

“I love you,” Damien whispered, resting his brow bone on Hugo’s.

“Love you more,” Hugo smiled.

“Don’t start,” Damien playfully scolded, giving him another kiss.

And how wonderful it would be, to pretend they were younger, more carefree, and have each other on the kitchen counter and let the beans boil over and the pork burn. But there were sons upstairs to mind and a schedule to keep. A few more kisses and they returned to finishing the food.

Soon the tomato was pureed, the cilantro chopped, and the black beans stirred in a light stew. Damien quickly checked the time on his phone. It was 10 minutes until 6pm. Hugo looked over at their work with pride, each condiment set orderly in separate glass bowls on the long table in the dining room. A bottle of Hugo’s favorite red wine and a liter of pineapple soda for the boys decorated the middle. He smiled and pulled out the end chair for Damien and spoke Baroque-influenced interior decor to him. Damien blushed lightly and took his hand after Hugo took the seat on his left side. Out of all the guests that had passed through these doors only Hugo was able to point out and appreciate the value of the details he put into the renovation. He fell in love with him a little more each time he did.

The boys were only 5 minutes late, they couldn’t fault them for that, especially when they came in snickering about something. Damien and Hugo weren’t as worried about them getting along, it was more worrisome to think when they start being _too_ close. As in, they’d form a strong alliance and cause mayhem in the cul de sac.

Although Damien was noticing a change in Lucien. Hugo must have noticed too since he had been approached twice now for a

K id in English assignments. Whether it was partly from his counseling sessions he was now frequenting and/or if it was just part of growing up, Lucien has been mellowing out. He hoped he’d be a good influence for Ernest who had just begun his tumultuous teen years.

They continued their childish snickering even as they were taking their seats across from Hugo, Ernest carelessly scraping the chair legs against the wood flooring. “Hey, lift the chair up,” Hugo frowned.

“Sorry,” Ernest grinned. “Chair’s heavy.” He did make a better effort to pull out the chair more smoothly. Ernest muttered a nonsensical phrase in such a way that made Lucien snort and shake his head.

“That’s not even funny,” he replied, although his smile and chuckles said otherwise.

Damien leaned closer to Hugo and whispered, “It’s a meme.” Hugo nodded in understanding without really, truly, understanding it.

As their giggles diminished, Damien began to uncork the bottle, serving himself and his husband wine. “It appears that you boys have been settling in the room quite nicely,” he commented.

“Yea, we set our boundaries,” Lucien answered with a sly smirk. “Like he can’t sleep naked, even when he has his own bed.”

“Hey! I do not sleep naked…I have my boxers on, big difference,” Ernest frowned, resting his chin on the table. He began to eye the condiments and furrowed his brow when he recognized the tomato puree. Damien inwardly smirked.

“Well I did call this a special occasion,” Damien said. Lucien sniffled and opened the soda bottle to pour himself a cup of the bright yellow soda. “Because for one, we are finally here, together, like a family. Now, I know it will take another short while to get everything settled in, Ernest with his own room—”

“And the Duchess,” Ernest piped in. “She’s gonna sleep outside huh? She gonna need a heatlamp.”

Hugo, Damien, and Lucien fell silent for a moment. Hugo scratched his nose, Lucien took a generous sip of his soda and Damien shook his head.

“R-right,” Damien cleared his throat before continuing. “And figuring out where to put Hugo’s own collection, and so on and so forth. It may seem like a bit of a, ah, a convoluted living situation but we’ll make it work.”

Hugo smirked, raising his glass. “To us, the Vega-Bloodmarch household,” he smiled. Damien returned it with his own raised glass. “Salud,” Damien grinned.

“Salud,” Hugo replied, clinking his cup against Damien’s, followed by Lucien who raised his half-drunk glass of soda. Ernest raised his empty cup and clinked his with everyone elses’, now definitely curious about the meal.

He pointed at the closest warm porcelain pot, the blue etchings swirled around intricately on its pale surface. “What’s that?” he inquired after setting his empty cup aside.

“Open it,” Damien smiled wide. “Be sure to use the potholder that is off to the side—yes, that one. It’s still a little hot.”

Ernest’s light brown eyes widened at the sight of perfectly cooked black beans, the pieces of pork stained to a perfect shade of dark purple. It looked delicious. Hugo usually cooked this for him on special occasions, on his birthday when he requested it. Ernest looked up at Hugo rather sheepishly. “Thanks dad,” he muttered.

Hugo’s lips curled in a knowing smile. “Don’t thank me, it was Damien’s idea,” he responded. “He cooked it.”

Ernest turned to Damien, who was beaming, his chest puffing up proudly. He looked at the pot of pork and beans and then at the vampire again. “I thought you were vegetarian,” he said bluntly.

It seemed that both Hugo and Lucien lightly tensed up, uncertain on where Ernest’s brusque mouth will lead into.

Damien’s chest deflated slightly, yet he smiled and chuckled brightly. “Do you think I seethe at the sight of meat?”

Ernest shrugged. “I thought vegetarians don’t like meat period.”

“I don’t,” Damien answered honestly. “But just because I am one, doesn’t mean I will force you to follow my lifestyle. You are allowed to eat whatever you wish. Now, if you are ever curious and decide to—”

“Nah thanks, I’m good,” Ernest hastily replied.

Damien continued to chuckle. “I thought so,” he smirked. “Go on then, serve yourself first.”

Ernest found himself smirking at him. He turned his attention back to his favorite dish and used the serving spoon to scoop up a generous amount of beans and pork on his plate. Lucien relaxed his shoulders, sniffled, and observed the meat dish curiously as Ernest carefully placed the warm bowl back on the table, garnishing it with the tomato puree, cilantro, and the like. Hugo shook his head tiredly as he waited for Ernest to finish. Lucien rubbed his nose with his handkerchief.

“Did you take your allergy medicine Lucien?” Damien inquired, raising a brow softly and taking a sip from his glass. Hugo began to serve Damien and himself from their respective pots.

“I, uh, yea,” Lucien furrowed his brows, most of his attention placed on how Ernest squeezed every bit of half of the lime into his bowl. “I think I’m actually getting sick though.”

“Quarantine him to the guest bedroom!” Ernest exclaimed, a poorly hidden grin on his face. Made the vampire jump a bit in his seat as he wasn’t so used to his sudden outbursts. “I don’t want his germs on my stuff!”

“You are not kicking me out of my own room,” Lucien rose a brow, better at suppressing his grin. “Besides, it is not coincidental that I began showing symptoms right after your crap has been piling in the corner.”

Ernest furrowed his strong brow, tsking and taking his first determined spoonful as if that itself would mark a point. His eyes widened for just a blessed moment and Damien had unfortunately missed it. “You could have dormant germs,” he added.

“You don’t know what that means.”

“Bet your twink ass I do!”

Damien sputtered his wine. He growled, the sharp burning sensation going straight to his nose.

“Okay, drop it,” Hugo frowned, his voice nearing the edge of a campus aide on a hot summer day. “No one is going to quarantine anyone, let alone kicking anyone out.” He looked at Damien with a softened brow. “Amor, are you okay?”

“Quite alright,” Damien smiled through watery eyes, accepting the handkerchief and firm shoulder rub. “I’m sure they were having a quick banter. Relatively harmless.”

He blinked the tears away and in a near instant composed himself with a rough clearing of his voice and a rise of his brow. “However, I do you want you to refrain from using ‘twink’ as an insult,” he reprimanded.

“I’m not insulting though,” Ernest defended. “We call each other stuff all the time, its like whatevs.”

Lucien sighed and nodded. “Yea dad, he’s right,” he shrugged lightly. “I sometimes refer to him as Pedro’s ugly cousin and he doesn’t mind.”

“Exactly,” Ernest smiled, pausing, then frowning. “Wait a minute--”

“This had been only a warning,” Damien remarked firmly. “I would not want to take your complaints lightly when one of you has taken the greater offence. Am I understood?”

“Yes dad,” Lucien responded.

“Yea Damien,” Ernest muttered, turning his attention back to his food.

Hugo silently marveled at how well he handled two teens at once.

Damien smirked. “Very well then,” he said, stirring his bowl lightly. “Ernest dear, will you show us how to prepare the beans?” Lucien began to serve himself from the beans-only pot.

Ernest pursed his lips and glanced and his, admittedly overly, garnished bowl. He looked back at Damien and shrugged. “I don’know,” he muttered, slightly flustered. Has anyone truly cared for his opinion? At the age he was, the awkward shift between child and young adult, he had come to accept that he was going to be glossed over in every situation possible. “You just kinda have to prepare it to your taste.”

  
“And how does it taste?” Damien wondered, his brows raising up in anticipation.

“It’s, um,” Ernest began. It is good, really damn good. Salted just enough to enjoy the other condiments and yet having that distinct flavorfulness that marked a bowl of good beans. “It’s...it’s good.”

“Now be honest with me,” Damien beamed, resting his elbow on the table and his chin on his knuckles. “You can tell me what is missing or what I can hold back on for next time.”

Lucien tried to copy Ernest’s preparation. Hugo chuckled softly at the sight, resuming his meal. He was certainly thankful for how well they smoothed the minor tension over.

“Nothing,” Ernest nodded more sincerely. “It’s good.”

“Wonderful!” Damien smiled wider. “I hoped it suited your taste. Your father helped tremendously of course, this was not completed without his aid.”

Ernest looked over at Hugo, who smiled in a sincere, kind, proud way at Damien before taking a sip of his own wine.

Damn, his dad was really happy.

“Thanks dad, thanks Damien,” Ernest muttered, a light flustered blush crossing his cheeks. This was all for him. He hated to admit to himself how that felt pretty nice.

“You are very welcome Ernest,” Damien smiled, that spread of thin lips so damn genuine.

Ernest smirked softly at him. Perhaps this “now what” wasn’t so bad after all. Admittedly bittersweet and nostalgic as he reminisced dinners spent together with dad and pops, but it was different, in its own way.

And that was...okay.

Ernest dared let himself indulge in the moment, noting small yet distinctive changes. The table, however unnecessarily long and elegant, seemed fuller, more lively. There were the two fathers again but with an added brother, a childhood wish long forgotten now belatedly granted. He could not complain as much, he supposed, there was still a lot of readjustment he needed to do.

And true to nuclear family standards, they chatted amongst themselves. Sometimes switching off and talking over others. One would crack a lame joke and the other would snort, while the rest would sigh in exasperation or confusion.

Soon the bowls were scooped clean, the wine corked, and the leftover bits of garnishes ready to be tossed into the compost. Lucien burped loudly which caused Ernest to laugh and laugh harder still when he noted Damien’s disapproving shake of his head. Ernest tried stifling his laughter with hand clasped over his mouth after noting his father’s own disapproving look. Lucien’s proud smirk and chortles weren’t helping.

But not one reprimanding comment, the lull in laughter began with contented sighs and full tummies.

“I believe I asked this before,” Damien asked, his second and last glass empty and set to the side. His hand came to rest on Hugo’s arm as Hugo enjoyed the last drops of his. “But is there anything you and Ernest would traditionally do over summers?”

Ernest and Hugo looked at each other, hazel browns catching their precious living carbon copy’s own. Plenty of things, was the unspoken answer, but not much since the divorce. Hugo set his glass down to answer.

“Because I was thinking that I should take mine and Lucien’s plans for a roadtrip to effect,” Damien grinned, knowing to skim over that slight hesitation. “Why don’t we go camping, in Acadia National Park in Maine.” He brightened up even more. “A family honeymoon!”

Both Lucien and Ernest scrunched up their noses. “Ew,” Ernest murmured.

“Eugh, dad, no,” Lucien frowned. “Just call it a normal family vacation.”

Now it was Damien's and Hugo's turn to chuckle heartily. “I wouldn't think we'd do anything traditional of a honeymoon,” Hugo snickered.

“Mm, quite right my love,” Damien passed his thumb over those strong knuckles. He leaned in for a quick nuzzle of their noses. “There will be plenty of opportune moments in the coming weeks. There is no rush.”

Lucien stuck out his tongue while Ernest immediately pulled his hoodie over his head and pulled on the strings tightly, effectively hiding his entire face except his nose and mouth. “Gross! Gross! Gross! Stop!”

And just to spite them, Damien and Hugo shared tender yet small press of lips.

“Ho'kay! We're done here!” Lucien said, standing up from his seat and taking Ernest by the fabric of his shoulder. The boy surprisingly complied to the man-handling, hanging limp like a resting marionette. “Let's leave the old men alone shall we? Great. Good night everybody.”

Ernest weakly saluted, hoodie still snug over his head. “Adee-os muchachos,” he smirked, slipping away from his seat after Lucien let him go.

“Ah no, Ernesto, Lucien, you need to take those dishes to the sink,” Hugo called after them, after the boys were clearly trying to escape nightly duties.

Yet they quickly found a way to pass the time on a dull chore by having Ernest keep his hoodie covering his face while Lucien navigated directions. Damien and Hugo looked on with casual interest as Lucien tried in vain to lead Ernest.

“No! You dumb sluu-ergh slug! You dumb slug, your other left!”

Of course Ernest bumped his forehead onto the frame of the door that lead into the kitchen. Good thing the teens had the foresight to have Ernest carry only the soda bottle and spoons.

But in the end they did their part clearing the table and washing the dishes and the parents did theirs in evading anymore childish mishaps by taking charge of washing the porcelain pots and glass cups.

Damien deemed the night a success. Lucien and Ernest were left to their own devices after bidding them good night (they knew it would take another 3 hours or so on their phones before they would knock out) and the newlywed fathers finally settled down on their now legitimized marriage bed. “As if we had not engaged in illegitimate acts before,” Hugo grinned, earning a hearty chuckle and a tug of his locks from his beloved.

Damien let out a contented sigh, his chest warmed by Hugo's lax head resting peacefully there. Fingers weaved through chocolate brown waves as arms wrapped around him in a tender, loose embrace.

“When are we going to tell him?” Damien whispered.

Hugo furrowed his brow, knowing exactly what he was referring to. There was no use in stalling, Ernest was anticipating the Duchess’ return.

“Tomorrow,” Hugo muttered. Damien hummed in agreement. The sooner the better.

“I will begin my search for a good local foster family,” he promised.

“You'd be working miracles if you do,” Hugo scoffed. “I don't think anyone sane would take in the Duchess...no, wait, what about Craig?”

Damien hummed to disagree. “Part of the reason why he keeps the girls so busy is so that they won't start pestering him for pets,” he answered. “Craig is-- _nnnot_ that insane as we may think.”

Hugo chuckled but understood. It was easy for him because he had only one son, and that same son took care of the dog dearly. Hugo stretched his legs and shifted to tuck his face on the nape of Damien's neck. Damien rested his cheek on his forehead in turn and contented himself to instead trace beauty marks on Hugo's shoulders and biceps.

“And Robert?” Hugo murmured.

“Too protective of Betsy.”

“Brian?”

“They are in the process of adopting another dog. I wouldn’t recommend them the Duchess either.”

No other neighbor seemed to be fit, or rather sane and willing, to take in the lovable, destructive mastiff. There was no other choice than to let Duchess go.

There was a loud-sounding crash down the hallway, which made both fathers’ hearts leap in shock. They looked at each other, their brows twisted with worry and concern.

“IT WAS NOTHING!” a voice called down the hall. “NOTHING HAPPENED! DON’T BO-BOTHER!” that familiar pubescent voice cracked.

A loud boisterous laugh was heard, making Damien and Hugo groan in relief and minor annoyance.

“Err, don’t bo-ther fa-ther, errr,” Lucien mercilessly teased.

“SHUT UP CUNT!”

" _Estos cabros_...GOOD NIGHT!” Hugo frowned.

“G’NIGHT!” both boys answered.

Damien chuckled warmly, taking Hugo back into his arms. “Good night my love,” Damien whispered sweetly.

“Good night cariño,” Hugo muttered, kissing him until Damien was being firmly pressed into the many pillows they now kept on their bed. Fair hands crept behind his head, taking him gladly. Hugo looked down and grinned, going in for another kiss.

“This place IS haunted you know,” Lucien’s voice echoed down the hall.

“Lucien shut up!”

“Sometimes the bugs crawl out of their cases--”

“STOPPIT!”

Damien and Hugo pulled away with a soft click of their lips, a soft smile crossing their faces.

Perhaps they will take the boys camping, and take a second vacation for a exclusive honeymoon for themselves.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
